FootNote
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While we know our northern friends may not feel it, in the South, Spring is
here. So we thought we'd share a few of our gardening sites appropriate
for this time of the year. Along with gardening, there's grilling, and getting
ready to diet so that you can fit back into that bathing suit this summer!
I need not say, what the
reader has already seen, that my life so far
had been one of joy succeeding sorrow, and
sorrow following joy; of hope, of despair;
of bright prospects, of gloom; and of as
many hues as ever appear on the varied sky,
from the black of midnight, or the deep
brown of a tempest, to the bright warm glow
of a clear noon day. On the 11th of April it
was noon with me; I left Boston on my way
for Raleigh with high hopes, intending to
pay over the money for my family and return
with them to Boston, which I intended should
be my future home; for there I had found
friends and there I would find a grave. The
visit I was making to the South was to be a
farewell one; and I did not dream that my
old cradle, hard as it once had jostled me,
would refuse to rock me a pleasant, or even
an affectionate good bye. I thought, too,
that the assurances I had received from the
Governor, through Mr. Smith, and the
assurances of other friends, were a
sufficient guaranty that I might visit the
home of my boyhood, of my youth, of my
manhood, in peace, especially as I was to
stay but for a few days and then to return.
With these thoughts, and with the thoughts
of my family and freedom, I pursued my way
to Raleigh, and arrived there on the 23d of
the month. It was Saturday about four
o'clock, P.M. when I found myself once more
in the midst of my family. With them I
remained over the Sabbath, as it was sweet
to spend a little time with them after so
long an absence, an absence filled with so
much of interest to us, and as I could not
do any business until the beginning of the
week. On Monday morning between eight and
nine o'clock, while I was making ready to
leave the house for the first time after my
arrival, to go to the store of Mr. Smith,
where I was to transact my business with
him, two constables, Messrs. Murray and
Scott, entered, accompanied by two other
men, and summoned me to appear immediately
before the police. I accordingly accompanied
them to the City Hall, but as it was locked
and the officers could not at once find the
key, we were told that the court would be
held in Mr. Smith's store, a large and
commodious room. This was what is termed in
common phrase in Raleigh a "call court." The
Mayor, Mr. Loring, presided, assisted by
William Boylan and Jonathan Busbye,
Esqs. Justices of the Peace. There was a
large number of people together—more than
could obtain admission to the room, and a
large company of mobocratic spirits crowded
around the door. Mr. Loring read the writ,
setting forth that I had been guilty of
delivering abolition lectures in the State
of Massachusetts. He asked me whether I was
guilty or not guilty. I told him I did not
know whether I had given abolition lectures
or not, but if it pleased the court, I would
relate the course I had pursued during my
absence from Raleigh. He then said that I
was at liberty to speak.
The circumstances under which I left
Raleigh, said I, are perfectly familiar to
you. It is known that I had no disposition
to remove from this city, but resorted to
every lawful means to remain. After I found
that I could not be permitted to stay, I
went away leaving behind everything I held
dear with the exception of one child, whom I
took with me, after paying two hundred and
fifty dollars for her. It is also known to
you and to many other persons here present,
that I had engaged to purchase my wife and
children of her master, Mr. Smith, for the
sum of twenty-five hundred dollars, and that
I had paid of this sum (including my house
and lot) eleven hundred and twenty dollars,
leaving a balance to be made up of thirteen
hundred and eighty dollars. I had previously
to that lived in Raleigh, a slave, the
property of Mr. Sherwood Haywood, and had
purchased my freedom by paying the sum of
one thousand dollars. But being driven away,
no longer permitted to live in this city, to
raise the balance of the money due on my
family, my last resort was to call upon the
friends of humanity in other places, to
assist me.
I went to the city of Boston, and there I
related the story of my persecutions here,
the same as I have now stated to you. The
people gave ear to my statements; and one of
them, Rev. Mr. Neale, wrote back, unknown to
me, to Mr. Smith, inquiring of him whether
the statements made by me were correct.
After Mr. Neale received the answer he sent
for me, informed me of his having written,
and read to me the reply. The letter fully
satisfied Mr. Neale and his friends. He
placed it in my hands, remarking that it
would, in a great measure, do away the
necessity of using the other documents in my
possession. I then with that letter in my
hands went out from house to house, from
place of business to place of business, and
from church to church, relating (where I
could gain an ear) the same heart-rending
and soul-trying story which I am now
repeating to you. In pursuing that course,
the people, first one and then another
contributed, until I had succeeded in
raising the amount alluded to, namely,
thirteen hundred and eighty dollars. I may
have had contributions from abolitionists;
but I did not stop to ask those who assisted
me whether they were anti-slavery or
pro-slavery, for I considered that the money
coming from either, would accomplish the
object I had in view. These are the facts;
and now, sir, it remains for you to say,
whether I have been giving abolition
lectures or not.
In the course of my remarks I presented the
letter of Mr. Smith to Mr. Neale, showing
that I had acted the open part while in
Massachusetts; also I referred to my having
written to Mr. Smith requesting him to
obtain for me the permit of the Governor;
and I showed to the court, Mr. Smith's
letters in reply, in order to satisfy them
that I had reason to believe I should be
unmolested in my return.
Mr. Loring then whispered to some of the
leading men; after which he remarked that he
saw nothing in what I had done, according to
my statements, implicating me in a manner
worthy of notice. He called upon any present
who might be in possession of information
tending to disprove what I had said, or to
show any wrong on my part, to produce it,
otherwise I should be set at liberty. No
person appeared against me; so I was
discharged.
I started to leave the house; but just
before I got to the door I met Mr. James
Litchford, who touched me on the shoulder,
and I followed him back. He observed to me
that if I went out of that room I should in
less than five minutes be a dead man; for
there was a mob outside waiting to drink my
life. Mr. Loring then spoke to me again and
said that notwithstanding I had been found
guilty of nothing, yet public opinion was
law; and he advised me to leave the place
the next day, otherwise he was convinced I
should have to suffer death. I replied, "not
to-morrow, but to-day." He answered that I
could not go that day, because I had not
done my business. I told him that I would
leave my business in his hands and in those
of other such gentlemen as himself, who
might settle it for me and send my family to
meet me at Philadelphia. This was concluded
upon, and a guard appointed to conduct me to
the depot. I took my seat in the cars, when
the mob that had followed us surrounded me,
and declared that the cars should not go, if
I were permitted to go in them. Mr. Loring
inquired what they wanted of me; he told
them that there had been an examination, and
nothing had been found against me; that they
were at the examination invited to speak if
they knew of aught to condemn me, but they
had remained silent, and that now it was but
right I should be permitted to leave in
peace. They replied that they wanted a more
thorough investigation, that they wished to
search my trunks (I had but one trunk) and
see if I was not in possession of abolition
papers. It now became evident that I should
be unable to get off in the cars; and my
friends advised me to go the shortest way
possible to jail, for my safety. They said
they were persuaded that what the rabble
wanted was to get me into their possession,
and then to murder me. The mob looked
dreadfully enraged, and seemed to lap for
blood. The whole city was in an uproar. But
the first men and the more wealthy were my
friends: and they did everything in their
power to protect me. Mr. Boylan, whose name
has repeatedly occurred in this publication,
was more than a father to me; and Mr. Smith
and Mr. Loring, and many other gentlemen,
whose names it would give me pleasure to
mention, were exceedingly kind.
The guard then conducted me through the mob
to the prison; and I felt joyful that even a
prison could protect me. Looking out from
the prison window, I saw my trunk in the
hands of Messrs. Johnson, Scott, and others,
who were taking it to the City Hall for
examination. I understood afterwards that
they opened my trunk; and as the lid flew
up, Lo! a paper! a paper!! Those about
seized it, three or four at once, as hungry
dogs would a piece of meat after forty days
famine. But the meat quickly turned to a
stone; for the paper it happened, was one
printed in Raleigh, and edited by WESTON R.
GALES, a nice man to be sure, but no
abolitionist. The only other printed or
written things in the trunk were some
business cards of a firm in Raleigh—not
incendiary.
Afterwards I saw from the window Mr. Scott,
accompanied by Mr. Johnson, lugging my
carpet-bag in the same direction my trunk
had gone. It was opened at the City Hall,
and found actually to contain a pair of old
shoes, and a pair of old boots!—but they did
not conclude that these were incendiary.
Mr. Smith now came to the prison and told me
that the examination had been completed, and
nothing found against me; but that it would
not be safe for me to leave the prison
immediately. It was agreed that I should
remain in prison until after night-fall, and
then steal secretly away, being let out by
the keeper, and pass unnoticed to the house
of my old and tried friend Mr. Boylan.
Accordingly I was discharged between nine
and ten o'clock. I went by the back way
leading to Mr. Boylan's; but soon and
suddenly a large company of men sprang upon
me, and instantly I found myself in their
possession. They conducted me sometimes high
above ground and sometimes dragging me
along, but as silently as possible, in the
direction of the gallows, which is always
kept standing upon the Common, or as it is
called "the pines," or "piney old field." I
now expected to pass speedily into the world
of spirits; I thought of that unseen region
to which I seemed to be hastening; and then
my mind would return to my wife and
children, and the labors I had made to
redeem them from bondage. Although I had the
money to pay for them according to a bargain
already made, it seemed to me some white man
would get it, and they would die in slavery,
without benefit from my exertions and the
contributions of my friends. Then the
thought of my own death, to occur in a few
brief moments, would rush over me, and I
seemed to bid adieu in spirit to all earthly
things, and to hold communion already with
eternity. But at length I observed those who
were carrying me away, changed their course
a little from the direct line to the
gallows, and hope, a faint beaming, sprung
up within me; but then as they were taking
me to the woods, I thought they intended to
murder me there, in a place where they would
be less likely to be interrupted than in so
public a spot as where the gallows stood.
They conducted me to a rising ground among
the trees, and set me down. "Now," said
they, "tell us the truth about those
abolition lectures you have been giving at
the North." I replied that I had related the
circumstances before the court in the
morning; and could only repeat what I had
then said. "But that was not the truth—tell
us the truth." I again said that any
different story would be false, and as I
supposed I was in a few minutes to die, I
would not, whatever they might think I would
say under other circumstances, pass into the
other world with a lie upon my lips. Said
one, "you were always, Lunsford, when you
were here, a clever fellow, and I did not
think you would be engaged in such business
as giving abolition lectures." To this and
similar remarks, I replied that the people
of Raleigh had always said the abolitionists
did not believe in buying slaves, but
contended that their masters ought to free
them without pay. I had been laboring to buy
my family; and how then could they suppose
me to be in league with the abolitionists?
After other conversation of this kind, and
after they seemed to have become tired of
questioning me, they held a consultation in
a low whisper among themselves. Then a
bucket was brought and set down by my side;
but what it contained or for what it was
intended, I could not divine. But soon, one
of the number came forward with a pillow,
and then hope sprung up, a flood of light
and joy within me. The heavy weight on my
heart rolled off; death had passed by and I
unharmed. They commenced stripping me till
every rag of clothes was removed; and then
the bucket was set near, and I discovered it
to contain tar. One man, I will do him the
honor to record his name, Mr. William
Andres, a journeyman printer, when he is any
thing, except a tar-and-feathered, put his
hands the first into the bucket, and was
about passing them to my face. "Don't put
any in his face or eyes," said one.
D
So he desisted; but he, with three
other "gentlemen," whose names I should be
happy to record if I could recall them, gave
me as nice a coat of tar all over, face only
excepted, as any one would wish to see. Then
they took the pillow and ripped it open at
one end, and with the open end commenced the
operation at the head and so worked
downwards, of putting a coat of its contents
over that of the contents of the bucket. A
fine escape from the hanging this will be,
thought I, provided they do not with a match
set fire to the feathers. I had some fear
they would. But when the work was completed
they gave me my clothes, and one of them
handed me my watch which he had carefully
kept in his hands; they all expressed great
interest in my welfare, advised me how to
proceed with my business the next day, told
me to stay in the place as long as I wished,
and with other such words of consolation
they bid me good night.
D I think this was Mr.
Burns, a blacksmith in the place, but I am
not certain. At any rate, this man was my
friend (if so he may be called) on this
occasion; and it was fortunate for me that
the company generally seemed to look up to
him for wisdom.
The Narrative of Lunsford Lane, Formerly
of Raleigh, N.C., 1842
